Molech

This is not a check,            
but a call to financial
arms, there is none left.

Non-negotiable,            
the full faith and credit clause,
no gold standard left.

We are floating in            
a stormy monetary
sea of dejection.

And the Alex Jones            
ilk, the crazies inside the
woodwork are correct.

We have been sold down        
both eternal rivers, the
Styx and the Lethe.

False flag agenda,            
an electromagnetic
pulse fries the system.

The Mayhem cabal            
blows up the credit houses,
like the Twin Towers.

This is not a text            
from an apocraphyl book,
but a prophecy

from the depths of now        
and the depths of the past on
our own life to come.

Jekyll Island, an            
apt name for the place that gave
birth to Mister Hyde,

the Mister Hyde that            
is inoculated from
the outside audits.

The acolytes of                
Molech may or may not have
created this scheme,

but the owl can be            
seen around the Capitol,
and in the upper

left corner of the            
One-Dollar bill, but it may
just be exhaust fumes.

Whatever the case,            
this crystal city is now
a crystal meth batch.

The scabs oozing pus            
because the bugs will not stop
crawling on our skin.

Either way, this is            
our doing and nobody
else will foot the bill.